


The One About Their Life Together And Routine, That Sometimes Isn’t That Bad

by frankismyrealname



Series: Fluff Therapy With Ineffable Husbands [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Character, Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Relationship, Bathing/Washing, Bubble Bath, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Comfort No Hurt, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Morning Routines, Moving In Together, No Plot/Plotless, No Sex, No Smut, Routine, Sleepy Cuddles, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 13:29:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20390479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankismyrealname/pseuds/frankismyrealname
Summary: Crowley is six thousand years old, but he never actually felt relaxed and never tasted this sweet sweet routine. You know, this state when you finally moved in with your significant angel, got rid of all the boxes, and no longer have Hell, checking on you every two damn seconds.Okay, maybe that's not the most relatable situation, but you know what I mean, right?





	The One About Their Life Together And Routine, That Sometimes Isn’t That Bad

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally my first fic in english please be merciful i'm v soft

Crowley really wasn’t used to having actual schedule of the day. Usually it was something like this:

1\. Wake up at some point (the most unpredictable part. will it be after a week? Two hours? Decade? You can’t ever be sure about it)  
2\. Do something extremely annoying (though Hell was, euphemistically saying, skeptical about it, he was doing anyways. After all, annoyed human equaled human that was more likely to commit sin. And that’s the point, isn’t it?)  
3\. Check on Aziraphale ( who knows what he’ll do this time. Anthony loved him to death, and knew that his angel is generally quite a clever being, but he was also capable of doing really weird crap sometimes)  
4\. … that’s it. The rest wasn’t really planned.

He was sort of just living the moment, with no thought into it.

But then stuff started to change. There was the Armage-didn’t, Heaven and Hell going after them this one last (or at least he hoped so) time… yeah, that was the point when it all started to change. 

September the first- hurray, hurray, we started to get gay, he wrote in his nonexistent, mental calendar.

Because September the first was the exact same day when they moved in together, and Crowley was ready to swear that it was the wildest day of his life.  
It was messy, full of tripping off, putting stuff into boxes and getting them out of boxes, screaming (mostly at or because of plants)… but Crowley would definitely put it on his “wow it was one of better days of my life” list. And hey, it ended up with them having tiny house together, so how could it be any better?  
Okay, to be fair, there could be something better than this, but… it’ll happen in its own time, he was sure. Sixty five percent sure.

Anyway, after The Moving In Together happened, everything seemed to slow down a little. Though they were, obviously, immortal, he felt like someone in his thirties, who just got his life together, stabilized and domestic, and now felt into sweet, sweet routine. 

He probably didn’t look like this kind of guy, but he actually enjoyed the routine they had. When working for Hell was still his most important thing in life, he never knew what will happen the next day; maybe they’d finally check up and acknowledged, that all of those memos he sent were just a bunch of bullshit? Or they’d send him back to work Down There for some reason. Or… just, SOMETHING could happen. He got used to living in constant “be careful, bitch” mode. Constant fear, constant tension. 

So now, he finally could truly relax. And throw all hellish stuff into the trash can. A big one, because it’s not easy to fit all of things that sometimes haunted him at night   
into trash can, that wasn’t at least XXL-sized.

Anyways, routine made all of Crowley’s muscles relax after all this time. And honestly, the morning one was the one that he’d never resign of:  
He needed at least half of an hour to properly wake up in the morning, and, to be completely honest, the first few days it was taking even longer. 

Mostly because of having to get used to the fact, that when he’s turning left there’s some fluffy marshmallow beside him (oh Satan, he was starting to get cheesy).   
Being in sleepy haze, in this weird state of mind when you’re not fully awake, but you’re not sleeping either, he was sometimes forgetting that they’re long over the “you go too fast, Crowley, calm the heck down” phase; that he doesn’t need to keep the distance anymore. 

Instead being a rational person and thinking that, hey, if Zira doesn’t freak out about it, he shouldn’t either, he was laying, completely paralyzed, for at least a few minutes, convinced that he’ll have to hide somewhere and sleep for another century to get over the fact that he’s (in his mind, not really consensually) snuggling his   
favorite angel, like it’s nothing big.

But, what a surprise, it never came to that, because it really is nothing big. Aziraphale would just pet his hair, and ask how his sleeping session went.   
(Spoiler: Crowley never gives coherent answer right after waking up. He just tries to blindly climb up Aziraphale and give him a Good Morning Kiss, mumbling something under his breath. Another spoiler: his aiming at this point of the day is tragic, so usually he ends up with his nose somewhere around angel’s neck.)  
And after week or two, he got used to it. 

It felt kind of like waking up in a new place; you just sit, confused, wondering if someone kidnapped you, and then your mind switches and you’re all like “oooooooh, right”. But after some time you wake up and don’t even think about new place, because it’s not a new place anymore.

The next step- assuming, that they actually got out of bed- was getting to the bathroom.   
Now it was the time when they were both conscious enough, so Crowley, spitting toothpaste all over the mirror, was trying to tell Aziraphale his dream and scrub teeth at the same time. Ninety percent of the time it was something really bizarre, like “Gabriel changed into a chicken and attacked The Dog, and then Adam’s mom baked this motherflughhgh (that was the moment when Crowley choked on paste) and invited us for dinner and we ate him. I think something like that happened in one of Greek myths, don’t you think, Angel?” 

On some Wednesdays, Fridays or Sundays, they were taking baths in the morning. It didn’t happen often, but for Crowley’s warm-loving self and Aziraphale’s hedonistic self, these were the best days, especially in the winter.

Anthony liked slipping into his snake form when the baths were happening. Not only was this comfortable for both of them (Crowley could soak up all of the heat around them more easily, or at least so he thought, and Aziraphale didn’t have to deal with bony elbows in his stomach), but also it was like telling his angel “look, you fluffy bastard, I trust you and I’m showing you that in this very clear-I hope so- and very easy-for me- way, because I’m not good at words”. He hoped Aziraphale has caught the message, because explaining that… boy, Crowley really sucked at words.

After the bathroom, there was breakfast. Zira’s second favorite part of the day (the first one was lunch, cause it was after breakfast, but before dinner), and though Anthony wasn’t the biggest fan of eating, he always joined him. Besides eating itself, preparing food was always fun; mostly because they were both awful at cooking.  
Like the time when they were make pancakes, and one of them somehow flew out of the window, straight into Mr. Tyler, walking outside with his dog.  
Or the time when the bread they were making got a little too big. And by “a little” I mean that their whole tiny table in the kitchen still isn’t one hundred percent clean.  
Or- okay I think you get it by now. They’re worse at cooking than Hannibal Lecter at keeping vegan diet. And when you add fact that Aziraphale disagreed to miracle-ing stuff while cooking because “that’s cheating, Crowley!”

And then… well, then they do what they planned earlier. 

Sometimes there’s something that disrupts their morning routine. Sometimes Crowley wakes up in the middle of the night and refuses to sleep until dawn. But unlike murder and blood like in “Until Dawn”, he can lay on Aziraphale, who puts away another book, and talk with him about stupid stuff. Sometimes Zira has too much stuff in his head that he can’t get rid of, so they stay in bed till dinner. Sometimes they fall asleep in the bathtub. Sometimes they have to clean the kitchen after some way too wild cooking session.  
But all of those things don’t happen often, and it’s not like anyone’s complaining about it. They both couldn’t have it better.


End file.
